


Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things

by Tsuki_Amano



Series: 365 Stucky Shots [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Spirits, Stucky - Freeform, Uni AU, and chocolate, bucky barnes is going to need a hug, clint needs to reassess his life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4616628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuki_Amano/pseuds/Tsuki_Amano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky was an ideal room-mate, all things considered. Of course, Steve’s standards weren’t too high. He was happy that Bucky hadn’t tried to kill/eat/decapitate him. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t flinch when doused with holy water and hadn’t called the cops when Steve had salted his doors and windows the first few weeks. </p><p>But Bucky's friends. When someone says a house is haunted, try to stay away. Because Steve is sort of sick of saving people from angry ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Supernatural episode (Let's play spot the Supernatural references).

“You’re kidding me, you _cannot_ actually be serious about this.”

“Man, I’m telling you, it was a haunted kidney. The girl got a transplant from her sister or whatever and her spirit latched on to the damned kidney after she passed. Riley and I had a hell of a time getting rid of the thing. Let me tell you, that hospital definitely won’t be inviting us back anytime soon to hand out balloons to children.”

Steve snorts, “Of all the possible cursed objects. I guess there’s a first time for everything. So what now, you guys taking a breather?”

“I wish. We’re headed up to Minnesota tonight. Wendigo sightings apparently. You know how it is, the life of a hunter never stops.”

“I remember,” Steve says, smiling. He pokes at his meatloaf while he tries to think of what he can say to fill in the silence.

Thankfully Sam steps in before he can say anything, “So, how’re things going at school? I don’t know how you do it, being cooped up in four walls all day long, I would have gone crazy a long time ago. And, hang on, Christ Riley, _I am not_ … _Fine_ ….Riley wants to know if you’ve met any hot sorority girls yet.”

Steve can feel the exasperation emanating from Sam, “Tell him sorority girls aren’t really my thing, but I’m not disappointed with my RA.”

Spluttering, Sam interjects, “Your room-mate? Steven Rogers do I need to come down there with my shot gun?”

He laughs, “You do that and I will drown you in holy water.”

Sam laughs and he’s about to say something else, when Steve spots Bucky and their friend Tony heading towards his table.

“Hey man, you let me know how that fishing trip to Minnesota goes, alright?”

“Civilians Rogers? Got it. And you make sure you let me know if anything happens with that RA boy of yours.”

Bucky sits next to Steve and slings an arm across Steve’s chair. “Sam? Man he’s really taking this gap year seriously.”

Steve shrugs and stabs his meatloaf some more. He almost misses greasy diner food right now.

Fifteen minutes later, their table is buzzing with conversation. Well, his friends are conversing, Steve’s sort of listening in and offering his input whenever Bucky asks. He’s not really good at small talk, not yet. Which is why he’s thankful for Bucky.

He’d joined college late, only getting a seat because the Dean was a hunter himself and understood implicitly what Steve was going through. He’d got a merit scholarship and managed to keep his grades up through the years so no one raised any objections. Unfortunately almost all the affordable rooms were occupied.

Steve was ready to drop the entire idea when the Dean gave him one last option, he could room with the RA.

Bucky was an ideal room-mate, all things considered. Of course, Steve’s standards weren’t too high. He was happy that Bucky hadn’t tried to kill/eat/decapitate him. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t flinch when doused with holy water and hadn’t called the cops when Steve had salted his doors and windows the first few weeks.

He seemed to be understanding that Steve hadn’t been a part of the formal education system for a long time and didn’t press Steve to explain.

He was also terrified of all things horror and camped out in Steve’s room for a week when Tony forced them to watch the Ring.

Steve was enamoured with Bucky. It was a perfectly natural reaction.

When Bucky’s arm tightens around Steve’s shoulder he looks up at his friend. He’s staring tensely at Barton who’s excitedly waving his milk carton around and explaining something to the group. Steve focuses a little more on the conversation, catching a few words here and there until the word, ‘ _haunted_ ’ pops up.

His attention shifts completely to the topic. It’s unlikely that there’s anything worthwhile, but years of experience have taught him not to ignore even a single sign.

He must tense up or something, because Bucky leans down and whispers into his ear. “Don’t listen to him, Barton just gets excited whenever he hears about ghosts. He’s always wanted to see one you know?”

And no Steve didn’t know. Whose life ambition is it to see a ghost anyway?

What kind of crappy guidance counsellors did these people have?

Clint notices that the pair isn’t paying attention to him and calls out, “Hey you two, can’t you make eyes at each other later? I’m telling you guys, this thing, this is a ghost.”

“And I’m telling you, you’re a step away from being certified.” Bucky snaps.

Natasha smirks and pats Clint’s knee, before staring pointedly at Steve.

He shifts uncomfortably in his plastic chair before leaning closer to Bucky and muttering, “Come on Buck. Take a deep breath ok?”

When he’s sure Bucky’s not going to throw an apple at Clint again, he changes the topic entirely and pretends he doesn’t notice Bucky drawing small circles on his shoulder.

Later that night, Steve groans as he scans through another article on the Internet. Because he can’t believe it, Clint might be on to something. The article they’d been discussing at lunch was vague, a couple found dead in their own home, throats slashed. Doors and windows were locked and bolted and it didn’t appear like anyone had gotten in. In fact there were no fingerprints, no footprints, nothing that would suggest a killer.

Normally, Steve would have ignored it. Killers were getting smarter every day and there were plenty of humans who were scarier than some of the things he’d hunted. But a little surfing on the net had thrown up results of similar deaths going back almost a hundred years. The only problem was that they were spread out and in different locales, so the police had never picked up the pattern.

Twirling his pen in one hand, Steve’s searching for the address of the latest incident when Bucky shuffles in. “You still awake Rogers?”

Bucky looks dishevelled, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers, hair mussed up and eyes bloodshot. Steve’s suspicions are confirmed when Bucky sits down on the sofa next to him, bouncing his knee without making eye contact.

“That story really got to you didn’t it pal?” He closes his laptop and shifts closer to Bucky, “Hey, come on. Clint always gets excited every time he hears there’s even the slightest possibility of seeing a spirit. You said it yourself, he wants to see one, which I’ve got to tell you is more than a little messed up. But there isn’t any proof that this thing is more than some nut job who’s just good at covering his tracks.”

“I know, it’s just that…” Bucky looks nervous and something’s off about this situation. Sure Bucky hates the whole supernatural thing, he always has ever since he was little and his sister fed him some story about haunted teddy bears, but this is different.

“Bucky, what is it? What’s wrong?”

* * *

 

Steve really wants to shoot something. And not with rock salt either. He and Bucky are outside the Millers’ residence, in the garden. It’s an old house, with a stone fountain and wooden bench. When a gust of cold wind rustles the leaves on the trees, Bucky shivers and Steve’s not really sure if it’s the cold or fear.

“Buck, you didn’t need to come.”

“I’d be a pretty shit RA if I didn’t. Besides, you’re here aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s a little different with me.” Before he can ask any more questions, Steve grabs his lock-picking kit from his pocket and works the lock on the front door open. “Come on,” he urges, “And don’t touch anything.”

They duck under the police tape barricade and Steve shuts the door, pulling out his flashlight. They head up the stairs when Steve hears footsteps. He moves in front of Bucky and is about to tell him to make a run for the door when the source of the footsteps comes into view.

“Clint?” Bucky asks, shocked. Clint looks frantic.

“It’s Tony, he’s trapped.”

Bucky slams his shoulder into the door again, but it won’t budge. On the other side, Tony is evidently panicking, “I’m going to die, this is it isn’t it?”

“Shut up Stark, you’re not going to die.” Steve snaps. He’s tried picking the lock to no avail.

Next to him, Clint is close to tears, “I mean, we came in here and we were just poking around right. And there was nothing, not even a mosquito. Tony wanted to look in this room last, but I don’t know, I got a bad vibe about it, so I refused. And something grabbed him and pulled him in and the door just slammed shut.”

“Barton, that couple in the papers, which room did they die in again?”

“Uh, I can’t remember. I’m not sure.”

“Well think, it’s important!”

“The master bedroom.” Bucky says suddenly, “It was the master bedroom.”

It clicks suddenly, “Which is the same room that Tony’s trapped in. We might have a small problem on our hands.”

He thinks, trying to come up with something. Ordinarily, he would have shot the damn thing, but he isn’t packing. He’s unarmed and unprepared and Tony’s in a lot of danger. The more time he takes to come up with a solution, the more chance Tony has of dying. Glancing down the hallway, he sees the door to the adjacent bedroom.

“Ok, I’ve got a plan. Bucky, you and Clint go down to the kitchen and grab any salt and iron that you can find.”

“Wait, what? What about you? Rogers what the hell is going on here?”

“Look. I can stand here and explain this to you now or we can save Tony’s life. Bring those things back here and once you get them, if you see anything hit them with the iron or throw salt at them alright? Bucky, we don’t have time for this. You can tell me I’m crazy after we get Tony out of there. Get moving!”

Clint clenches his jaw and pulls Bucky with him and Steve resolutely ignores the look of hurt that flashes through Bucky’s eyes. The door to the guest bedroom is open and he’s right, like the master bedroom it has a balcony. He’s not thrilled by the potential death drop between the two balconies, but he’s made bigger jumps.

The window’s stuck and no matter how hard he or Tony struggle with the latch it won’t open. This was going to hurt like a bitch but Steve still breaks the window open with his elbow, wincing as the glass shards slice through his arm.

Tony and he make their way through the guest room doorway and they’re half way down the stairs when they run into Bucky and Clint, who take one look at them and head towards the front door. Once they’re safely outside the garden gate and close to college, Clint turns to Steve, who cuts him off.

“How about we save the ‘ _Thank you for saving our sorry asses_ ’ speech for later? I’m not exactly in the mood for it. If you guys keep your mouth shut about what happened, we’ll call it even.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence and it’s only once he and Bucky are outside their door that he turns around and says, “Hey guys, the next time someone says a place is haunted, do me a favour. Don’t go in.”

Shutting the door behind him, he peels off his shirt and swears. Part of his arm looks like it’s gone a few rounds with a cheese grater.

“We need to clean that before it gets infected.” Steve jumps because for a minute, he’d forgotten Bucky was there. His room-mate’s voice sounds slightly strained and Steve can’t say he blames him. This can’t have been in the job description.

To his credit, he only flinches a bit when Bucky wipes the area with alcohol. “You’re sure that you don’t need to go to a hospital?” he asks uncertainly, winding a bandage round his arm.

“Positive Buck. You’re better than any nurse I’ll ever meet.”

Bucky smiles at Steve and turns away to put the remaining gauze inside, when Steve grabs his sleeve with his good arm. “Bucky. About what happened today, I can leave if you want. Say the word and I’ll be gone by the time the sun rises.”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Bucky looks so confused that Steve wants to hug him and feed him pie.

“Well. I mean, what just happened back there, it wasn’t exactly normal was it? I’m not really winning any votes for room-mate of the year.”

Shaking his head, Bucky leans on the counter next to Steve, “You saved Tony’s life. Look I have no idea what happened back there and I’m not going to lie. There’s a large part of me that wants to hide under my bed for a month. But the rest of me is saying that as weird as you are, it’s not the axe-murderer sort of weird. And I generally trust my gut feelings. I suppose you’re stuck with me Rogers.”

It’s only when the pair of them are tucked in, lying in Steve’s bed (there’s no way in hell Bucky plans on sleeping alone) that Steve realises, the spirit is still out there. And anyone who ventures into that house will be in danger.

He wonders if Bucky will still like him once he sees him digging up a grave.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting rid of a spirit wasn't too difficult. Except when it wasn't a spirit. Steve's not exactly sure the Universe understands the concept of him taking a break from all this.
> 
> Or the one where Bucky's room-mate is a few eggs short of a full basket but he's got a good heart and that's what counts.

“ _This_ is what you do for a living? You hunt Caspar?”

Throwing his laptop at Tony’s head would be counter-productive. He can’t figure out what’s going on if he’s busy cleaning Tony’s blood off the floor.

“Yes Tony. I hunt Caspar the blood-thirsty ghost and his slightly less than amicable friends. Although it’s a stretch to say that I do this for a living. That would imply I get paid for hunting, which I don’t. Most of the time, I get shot at. Or stabbed.”

Tony looks a little green but Steve doesn’t have the time to feel bad for him.

At first, Steve thought it was a spirit, a vengeful one which was haunting the house for whatever reason. Except there was nothing that supported his theory. No faulty wiring, no cold spots, no strange noises or weird smells. In fact, according to the neighbours, the only weird thing they could think of was the fact that the couple was so cheerful all the time.

His previous search which had shown instances taking place before in widespread locations didn’t tell him why there was a specific murder at a specific place, it just told him there was something going on. Which was about as useful as giving garlic to a vampire.

He’d been digging up the history of the house and as far as he could see, there was nothing that would attract vengeful spirits.

Clint and Bucky sit down at their table and Clint fixes Steve with a pointed look, “Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Turn on the news buddy.”

‘ _The community is still reeling after the bodies of Jim Randall and his wife were found, murdered in their home. Police are saying that this act of brutality was committed by someone known to the couple and can find no signs of a forced entry. With no evidence leading to the identity of the suspect, local authorities are asking all citizens for any information that could lead to the identification of the killer. Many worry that this attack bears a strong resemblance to that on a couple just a few days prior and now the fear is, do we have a serial killer on the loose? Authorities have asked the public to remain calm and to be aware of their surroundings. We’ll bring you more information and live updates as this story progresses._ ’

Switching the TV off, Steve frowns. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Bucky asks.

“If it was a spirit, which is the working theory, there’s no way it could have killed someone half-way across town. Spirits generally haunt places that they’ve been to. And it couldn’t be a cursed object either, because all the furniture from the Millers’ home is accounted for and nowhere near these people’s home.”

“Is there anything else you can do?” Clint asks.

“The police usually withhold some information from the public. They only reveal what they need to. There’s something missing here and if I can figure out what, I’d have a better shot getting rid of it.”

Snorting, Tony waves his pen in the air, “Right, and I suppose the cops are just going to let you see confidential information?”

Steve smiles at him.

* * *

 

“ _Bucky_ ,” he hisses, “If you keep fiddling with your tie, you’re going to mess it up.”

To his right Bucky looks pale and he’s visibly sweating. Steve’s beginning to wonder if bringing him along for this was a good idea. The man had insisted on accompanying Steve, but hadn’t realised what exactly gathering information meant.

Mopping his face with a handkerchief, he mutters, “I don’t think is legal.”

“Well, neither is breaking and entering, not to mention trespassing in a sealed crime scene. You’ve already bent a few laws. Think of this as acting, like drama.”

“Steve I almost failed my compulsory drama class, the only reason I passed was because they let me play a tree.”

Before he can say anything else, a portly man with a grey moustache greets them.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out his badge which he’d made in Tampa and flips it open, “Special Agent Gunter sir. Pleasure to meet you. And this is my partner, Agent Halley.” When Bucky spends the next ten seconds fumbling for his badge, he winces, “You’ll have to excuse my partner. He’s recovering from a nasty stomach bug, a bowl of bad chilli. What can I say though, you eat what you can on the job.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the man, Chief Santos, laughs. He ushers them into his room, gesturing for them to have a seat before shutting the door.

Sitting before them at his desk, his friendly nature drops and he says, “Alright, let’s cut the pleasantries. I know why you’re here. I wasn’t expecting the Bureau to send anyone so fast, but I’m not complaining. This is the fourth incident so far.”

Steve coughs to cover Bucky’s squawk of surprise. “Are you planning on releasing the details of the other two cases to the public?”

“No. The cases are too far apart, thankfully, for the public to realise. We didn’t even notice the connection till the last murder. Keeping the public informed is one thing, causing a riot is another. A possible serial killer on the loose and the police have no leads, that’d only cause widespread panic.”

“We’re going to need a copy of all the files you have for these cases.”

“Sure thing gentlemen. If you swing by my office tomorrow…”

“Let me make myself clear. We need to see the files, _immediately_. That’s not negotiable.” Bucky is taken aback when he catches a glimpse of Steve’s face. He’s never seen his normally cheerful roommate look this serious before. If he hadn’t known Steve had pulled these badges out of a box an hour ago, he’d believe anyone who told him that Steve was an undercover agent.

Two hours later, he’s reading through stacks of papers on the four most recent cases and his eyes are burning. So far, there’s no connection between the murders at all. Except for the fact they were all couples and the pattern of murder was the same, there’s no connection between the victims. Steve looks as exhausted as Bucky feels and he can’t help but wonder what made the man leave his old life.

He remembered how quickly Steve had reacted to save Tony, he was good at what he did. So why leave?

It doesn’t look like Steve’s going to be inclined to answer any questions though so he keeps his thoughts to himself. Instead he opens the next folder marked ‘ **Receipts** ’. They’re midway through the third file when Steve whistles, “The Millers’ spent five grand on their garden, these _Floral Homage_ people are either really good or these people had a lot of extra money to throw away.”

Something clicks in Bucky’s brain, “Wait a minute. Did you say Floral Homage? I’ve heard that name before.”

He rifles through another manila envelope until, “Here, look. The second couple, they called this number almost six times the morning they were murdered. The cops ran a trace on the number and it came back to a florist’s place, _Floral Homage_. The proprietor, Victor Hensen, told cops that he’d gone to their place to check out the garden and the soil. They’d called him a lot because he was late, got stuck in a traffic jam, he said.”

It’s a long shot, but so far, it’s the only connection they’ve found in a long time. Steve pulls up the first couple’s details and Bucky searches through the fourth. All four of the couples had some form of interaction with the same florist and all four had met the florist sometime in the week before they’d been murdered.

“So what?” asks Clint, “I mean, how does this help? Unless we have the ‘Vines of Death’ cutting these peoples’ throats?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve admits, “I do know that there’s another couple who’s booked an appointment with the same florist tomorrow though. We can start by heading there and figuring out what we’re dealing with. I’m betting if we search through the older cases I found, there’ll be some link to the same place. In this line of work, coincidences like this just don’t happen.”

“Man those badges of yours are fantastic, any chance you might be able to…”

“Not a chance in hell Tony.”

* * *

 

Glancing at his watch, Steve shuffles uncomfortably. He and Bucky are hiding in the closet in the living room hallway while Tony and Clint are upstairs. Steve has a nasty feeling that whatever this thing is, it’s seen them before and he doesn’t want to risk anything until he knows what it is. Which means that he and Bucky are extremely close to each other, close enough that Steve can smell Bucky’s shampoo.

“Well if that’s all, I’ll see you next week whenever you’re ready to start fertilizing the soil.” Hensen’s voice floats down the hallway. Steve’s horrified when he realises that it’s getting louder and louder and suddenly it stops, right outside their hiding spot. Bucky inhales sharply and the voices pause, Steve pressing his hand over Bucky’s mouth and nose trying to keep him quiet.

“Oh dear, there are those darn mice again, we’ve been trying to get rid of them, but well. There’s a reason they’re called vermin I suppose.” Mrs. Patel’s voice seeps in, shakily, and Steve allows himself to relax.

Five minutes later, her husband pulls open the closet door and they join Tony and Clint in the living room.

“He seemed normal,” Mr. Patel says slowly, “I mean, there wasn’t anything that would suggest…”

“That he was involved in a string of murders? I understand sir, but we’re working on whatever leads we can manage. If there’s anything strange you noticed, anything at all, it would help us.”

He’s looking at Mrs. Patel, who’s biting her lip. She doesn’t seem very eager to share what’s on her mind but when she meets her gaze, she nods and says, “Well, there is one thing. He was very… I suppose the best way to say it is, filthy. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand a florist might be a bit messy but this was a bit much. And the raven feathers in his hair, which was quite disturbing.”

He holds up his hand, “Did you say raven’s feather?”

“It’s a _what_?”

“A rakshasa, it’s an ancient Hindu deity. They feed on human flesh and they live in filth and squalor and get this, sleep on beds made of raven’s feathers.”

Tony’s not too impressed, “And what, this one poses as a florist for its day job? What, does it make bouquets of flowers for its victims or something?”

“Rakshasas need permission before they enter a human dwelling. That’s why it’s disguising itself. The good thing is, I know how to kill it. The not-so –good thing is that it’s not going to wait before it attacks. Now that it has permission to enter their dwelling, it won’t wait before it feeds and moves on to the next target. There’s a good chance that it’ll attack tonight, which means we need to move fast.”

* * *

 

The moon’s high in the night sky and Steve’s beginning to wonder if he’s wrong about this. There isn’t any sign of the rakshasa yet. Clint and Tony are keeping watch over the Patels and Bucky and him are keeping a vigil in the living room.

“You know,” Steve muses, “You’re handling this really well.”

Bucky gives him a chagrined grin, “Stevie, you don’t know the half of it. I hope you realize that you’re got a permanent bed-mate for the rest of the semester at least. Although, I have to admit, when you said that you had some toys under your bed, this isn’t exactly what I imagined.”

He’s flushing, he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks and he momentarily curses his complexion.

They both freeze when they hear the sliding door of the patio open slowly. “Show time,” whispers Steve, “Stay close alright?”

Unfortunately, things don’t go as planned. Mr. Hensen, or the rakshasa, takes one look at them and vanishes. Steve’s barely got time to shove Bucky out of the way before he feels it slice his arm. Swearing he clutches the wound trying to listen for footsteps. Judging by the look on Bucky’s face, he’s doing the same.

When they hear a plate shatter, they look at each other.

“It’s in the kitchen.”

Steve’s got to hand it to Bucky. He would have made a good hunter, the man can really think on his feet. When they run into the kitchen, Bucky grabs a bottle of flour from the cabinet and throws it as hard as he can. Steve watches as it flies all over the room, forming a dense white blanket in the air, slowly settling down to reveal a figure.

He doesn’t wait and shoves the brass blade into its back, watching as it deflates and sinks to the ground.

Later that night, when the four are in Steve’s apartment, Bucky patching Steve’s arm up again, Steve asks, “So you guys still want to see a ghost after all this?”

He laughs at the horrified looks at their faces.

Bucky and he stay awake for a while longer, Bucky sipping a beer and Steve, a cup of tea.

“Thanks for patching me up again.” Steve says, smiling at Bucky.

“Well, it’s not exactly like I was going to leave you to bleed out or something.” Bucky says scowling, but his scowl slips minutes later and he grins.

Shaking his head, he adds, “This is insane. I just stabbed an evil vanishing florist. I mean, what do you even do after this? How do things go back to normal now?”

Holding the cup tighter, Steve doesn’t make eye contact with Bucky, “You forget about it as best as you can and move on. This was a one-off incident. You’re not a hunter Buck and you don’t need to be. Just forget about what you saw and keep living your life.”

He’s still focussed on not looking at Bucky so he starts when he hears the noise of his mug on the table. He looks up to see that Bucky’s shifted closer to him, pressing his shoulder into Steve’s uninjured side carefully. “But that’s not what you did is it? What made you stop hunting Stevie?”

Steve allows himself to slump into Bucky’s side. “I got tired, I guess. You saw today right? Hunters, we don’t exactly have standard working hours or anything. And not every hunt is successful. This job, it’s hard not to bring work home with you. There was a point where I knew that if I didn’t get out, I’d lose my sanity.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s knee, “And you found us instead. So what now, will you go back to hunting?” He looks hesitant, afraid of what Steve will say.

“You know, I would have, under normal circumstances. But there’s something, or rather someone, I’d miss way too much if I got back on the road.”

His eyes hooded, Bucky’s tongue darts out to lick his lips before asking, “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Just this guy I met, who’s gone and stolen my heart. He’s afraid of anything that goes bump in the night you know, so being a hunter would be kind of difficult, all things considered.”

Bucky plucks the cup from Steve’s hands and places it on the table in front of the sofa, before closing the distance between them murmuring, “Guess it would, all things considered.”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything that doesn't match between the first and second chapter please let me know. Initially I had thought about a spirit, but then I changed my mind last moment.  
> The rakshasa was invisible when Steve and the others went into the house in the first chapter which is why it appeared like a malevolent spirit and it didn't kill Tony because by the time it could, Steve had already saved him.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing what one does when they're going through a rough spot: marathoning Supernatural so that Dean Winchester and I could angst together, which is where this idea was born.  
> There will be one more chapter to this and I hope to update the remaining arcs soon as well.


End file.
